A Tale of the Latter Ages
by Zealous Writer
Summary: Our reckoning of the history of Middle Earth ends in the early days of the fourth age, yet there are still mysteries and questions left unanswered. Here, in the latter ages, Morgoth has begun to stir within the Void and elves and men must unite once more to defeat him.
1. A Letter to William

**Author's Note:** Testing the waters with this story. Enjoy

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything that is recognizable. The credit and inspiration should all go to the greatest of all Dúnadain, J.R.R. Tolkien.

**A Letter to William upon the Death of His Mother**

_20__th__ of April, 2183_

_23__rd__ of Tuilë, 7__th__ Age of Middle Earth_

_Yanna et Eärello, South Carolina_

Dear William,

What can I say of grief that will allay some of what you feel, for I have witnessed the passing of many a dear friend upon this earth. When one such as I chooses to reside among mortals, one becomes intimately acquainted with loss. Yet you are strong, as your mother was; strong enough to endure the challenges that are placed before you. Iluvatar intended for death to be the gift of the Atani; an adventure away from the bounds of this world from which only Mandos may know one's destination. I only wish that I had been blessed with such strength as you carry now, for the death of your mother has rent my soul in two. Like the beauty of Eä commands the affections and attentions of the Eldar, so your mother took hold of my heart and sequestered my ageless wanderings. With my heart, I gave her my life and have since counted my sunrises and sunsets, knowing that soon the rays of Laurelin's last fruit would come no longer to my eyes.

My son, at heart I am of the Dúnadain, having spent many years travelling with them and fighting beside them. That is perhaps what kindled my heart so toward your mother. She held an inner strength, much like what I see in you and greatly resembling that which my beloved sister held as the War of the Ring darkened her spirits. And Arwen stood beside Estel until his very last breath released him to the Halls and to his fate. So I have stood beside Rebekah. Now, I shall fade, hoping that death should claim me soon. I return to my father's hearth, again the last Homely House, where I sit to pen this letter to you, my only child.

Rebekah had always been concerned about our story and if you should be burdened with it, for it is a dark tale, indeed. Regardless, I feel that you should know your roots and your history, and Paul and Grace as well. My grandchildren and great grandchildren should not step out into the world without first knowing how much was sacrificed for them. Now the funeral has passed, I ask that everyone should come to Yanna et Eärello where I shall retell it all in full.

Namárië cenuvanyel rato yonya,

Elladan Peredhil


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Again, if you recognize it, I don't own it.

**Author's Note:** For those who reviewed, thank you! I enjoy hearing each and every helpful and inspiring word. I hope that this chapter will live up to your expectations. We're off to a bit of a slow start, but I think this is needed to establish a few key points in the story.

I would like to give credit now to two authors who started my mind chomping on this monster—Azalais, writer of "Amid the Powers and Chances of the World" and Rana1, writer of "The Tale of Marian."

Enjoy!

"_It is one with this gift of freedom that the children of Men dwell only a short space in the world alive, and are not bound to it, and depart soon whither the Elves know not. Whereas the Elves remain until the end of days, and their love of the Earth and all the world is more single and more poignant therefore, and as the years lengthen ever more sorrowful. For the Elves die not till the world dies…" _

_-"Quenta Silmarillion"_

**Chapter One**

_'Your soul has been freed from its trials, my dear Bekah. Why then do I feel so despondent?' _Elladan leant against an ornate balcony as a salty sea breeze brushed through his unbound hair almost as if the memory of her were here beside him again enjoying the view. This had always been one of her favorite places, and when he'd found that her health was at last beginning to fail the long years of her Númenorean blood, he brought her back here to slip away in peace. '_Ulmo, Lord of Waters, tell me where her presence lingers.' _he prayed, hoping, perhaps, that the Valar would ease his suffering. But if they had heard his pleadings no help or comfort was offered. But the sound of soft footfalls disrupted his contemplations. "Brother, please. What can I do? Five days, and I've not heard a word from you. Father worries…and mother." Elrohir's familiar hand settled upon his shoulder. The presence of his brother did bring him comfort; he and his twin had been seemingly one entity for ages, travelling together throughout the lands of Middle Earth, even as they changed beyond recognition. But something now sundered him from Elrohir. Death—it was a gap that his brother could not cross.

"I wish, Elrohir. But this is my burden to bear. I pledged, knowing this day would come, and it has been but a flicker in my eye compared to the ages that have passed." He said, looking out over the water and along the coast line. A beam of white danced among the waves along the sound, reminding him again of the day he'd first brought her here. She'd been so young then, even in the reckoning of Men—Young and frightened, burdened beyond any of her rank since the fall of Sauron and the Dark Tower.

_"Yes, I believe you are the one whom Galadriel foretold would come. The Doom of Mandos falls upon us all in time."_

If only he could have taken back those words, perhaps things might have fallen differently. "I will fade, Elrohir; it may take more than a yeni, but my soul will leave this world as hers did. We may yet find each other again." Elrohir's pained silence did little to maintain the comfort of his presence. "I have but one more wish to fulfill. Did you post my letter?"

"Aye, brother, I did. Father and Haldir have made the arrangements." Elrohir's fair and flawless hands moved to grip the cold metal rail that separated them from the ocean, which crashed against the rocks below. "Your children should be assembled here by month's end. What then will you do?" Elrohir looked at him, his eyes searching, for he knew both of them had been separated from their children for some decades at least as William and his children and grand children had settled into the busy lives of men. He knew not whether they were even aware of their heritage.

"I would tell them their story, of course, for it is their story just as it is ours to pass on to whom we will. To conquer Morgoth is a feat worthy of any telling." The very seas seemed to darken at that oppressive name, yet Ulmo, perhaps, was not as silent as he seemed; the shadow passed as quickly as it had come. "It is up to them to choose what they do with it." Elrohir nodded, and Elladan felt him grieving over the fathoms that now lay between them. "Tell me, Elrohir, that you will continue…I do not wish to carry the guilt of your passing as well. And for father to loose all of his children…"

"Nay, Brother, do not worry over me. I have my own tasks yet to fulfill. Then I feel Aman should be my final destination. Aeda has expressed an interest in seeing it, though I doubt her reception would be kind among the Valar." The vision of their fiery friend attempting to fit into the culture of the Undying realm coaxed a chuckle from Elladan.

"That does comfort me, Brother, for whatever it is worth." Elladan turned from the ocean, stepping back toward the curved French doors, draped with climbing ivy, that lead into his bedroom. There, her memory was still quite strong. He could smell her perfume, see her sweater draped over the desk chair, and her journal still lay open on the bedside table as if she had merely left the room for a moment. And her infectious laughter, perhaps, could be heard in the hall beyond as it would have if she'd met with one of the many Eldar that now called this place home. "Come with me. I must meet with father." Elrohir nodded again; unable to speak for fear that something of his sorrow might escape.

"I am with you, Brother, you know that. Until I can no longer follow, I remain at your side."

An early May sunrise found highway seventeen nearly deserted; it was a Saturday, and his only company on the road seemed to be campers and backpackers, those seeking a bit of spring air at the seaside. And at the age of one hundred twenty-eight, he could not find fault with their reasoning. "Lower the window about halfway please." William spoke, quirking a smile at the prompt response from Phoenix as his driver's side window began to lower, stopping precisely halfway.

"Is this to your liking, sir?" the gentle female voice inquired.

"It is, thank you." he replied, smiling as the sounds of birdsong and waves filtered in through the window with not even a whir from the silent electric motor.

William Bradstreet looked then to the empty passenger seat where his Melody would have been seated, perhaps dozing. But he had lost her some years ago, just short of their fiftieth anniversary. That terrible ache of loss had lessened by now, but still, he wished she could have been here with him. She had not seen Yanna et Eärello since the day of their wedding and not a single anniversary dinner had passed during which they never spoke of going back. _'Father, please forgive my absence…'_ His father had asked for him to come, and despite the distance there was between them these days, he felt he owed him what time he could offer. And with not even a month gone by since the sprinkling of his mother's ashes, to return to his grandfather's house and the place of his birth was bitter-sweet.

"You have received a call from Grace. Do you wish for me to activate your hands-free system or request that she contact you again at a later time?"

"Hands-free, Phoenix." And within moments, he heard the voice of his daughter.

"Yes, Dad, we're stuck in Charleston. Alex is supposed to be doing a report on the Revolutionary War to make up for some of his missed class time. Bekah took him and Bria to look at some sights." she said, responding to his polite inquiries. "We should be in by ten or eleven at least. Has Paul caught his flight yet?" And for the next hour, they spoke, exchanging news. This trip, perhaps, would be for the best as his family had drifted apart over the years. And the younger ones had never had an opportunity to meet their great grandfather.

"I'm nearly there myself; another hour, I think." He said as he turned off onto a side road and high definition screens along the banked hills tempted drivers with lush images of Lighthouse Island resorts. Yes, they were nearly there. The countryside was significantly more developed than he remembered, yet he was confident that his father's people still remained within their old seaside dwellings on the cape. Something to do with the water, Elladan had once said. It protected them from prying eyes and helped them to maintain the land to their liking. Yes, the children would enjoy themselves.

Finally, he spotted the old drive-off hidden amongst a stand of willows and oaks, through which he could see a length of sandy beach stretching on along the coast. Beyond, he knew, lay Cape Romain. Phoenix's tires crunched through overgrown gravel, and immediately he felt as if he'd slipped through a bubble. The power of the sea protected this place, and it was just as familiar and welcoming now as it was when he had come with Melody all those years ago; and it was his childhood as well. He had been raised and instructed here. Then he spotted his uncle's old motorcycle parked beside an old yet well kept Roadmaster Estate wagon. The Elves, he knew, wandered rarely from their walls, yet if they did they preferred anonymity.

At the opposite end of the drive lay the beach, and a long pier jutted out into the waters of the sound. There, an old restored fishing boat was tethered, and he could see, as he stepped out of his car, a blond head moving about beside the cabin. "Aiya, Haldir!" Indeed, he was home. And perhaps he would remain here a while.


End file.
